Hello everybody! Here's my new chapter Fanfiction called A Game of Flirting! No need to explain what it's about as you can tell. I am putting this as humour as well, but whether it's funny or not...I dunno. Hopefully, you'll like it so…here's the first chapter…

While working another long shift at St. Bart's Hospital, Molly Hooper was fed up and frustrated. The gorgeous object of her frustrations was sitting just opposite her, peering delicately through the microscope, turning the screws on the sides. Molly chewed her bottom lip, watching him. What I wouldn't give to be that microscope. She sighed swivelling in her stool. Sherlock Holmes didn't even look up from his work as she loudly made her way across the room to collect some equipment. She was fed up. You will notice me, Sherlock Holmes. She had loved and lusted after this man for many years and it was beginning to show. She would stay behind after hours just to allow him to finish a case, she would allow him to conduct his deductions on her and she would allow him to take advantage of her kindness. She secretly loved how excited he got once he had solved a case. Molly realises how pathetic he makes her and she doesn't care. All she wants is Sherlock Holmes. On some level, Molly knew Sherlock wouldn't be so gentle and proper behind closed doors. The thought made Molly shiver…

"Molly, please refrain from staring, it is very distracting," Sherlock's voice sounded from across the room, sounding very annoyed and very sexy.

Molly dropped the beaker she was holding. Sometimes, she really hated her clumsiness. Bending down to pick up the beaker, she was suddenly aware Sherlock was next to her, helping her clear up her mess. Like whenever he was in close contact with her, Molly blushed furiously. Sherlock rolled his eyes and straightened up.

"I do wish you'd be careful. You are going to hurt yourself one of these days," he looked concerned as he studied her.

"Stop doing that," she squeaked, wishing she had more confidence when it came to Sherlock. He frowned slightly.

"Stop doing what, exactly?" He folded his arms defensively.

"That! Like you're reading me. Studying me like one of your damned cases," she replied, a sudden rush of adrenaline kicking her shyness momentarily away. Sherlock blinked a couple of times before nodding.

"Right, sorry. It's a force of habit," he gave a small smile and walked back to his lab table looking slightly defeated. Curiosity got the better of Molly.

"What did you find?" she said, subconsciously rubbing her hands together. Sherlock slowly turned to face her. He licked his lips and smirked. Molly sighed. You are just too damn beautiful.

"You left for work in a hurry this morning; this is strange as you were clearly up early enough. You no doubt spent too much time choosing an outfit that was both professional and flattering. You reduced your shower time by approximately 5 minutes. This is evident by your hair smelling only faintly of strawberries instead of the usually distinctive aroma," he had moved to stand in front of her and was practically whispering it into her ear, "the outfit you decided to wear, a tight fitting shirt, shorter than usual skirt and high heels, suggests a meeting with management. They offered you the position of Head of the Pathology lab and last but certainly not least, your hair…is down. My favourite way if I may say so."

Molly wasn't aware she had closed her eyes and was just listening to his lovely voice, sighing happily. His breath was warm on her face and she wanted nothing more than to push him backwards and mount him. He had been stroking her arm and was now humming lightly. Suddenly, the doors to the lab swung open and a very disgruntled John Watson wandered through the door.

"Half-past bloody ten and not a single nurse around. They do have night shifts here, don't they? Oh well, at least I got a coffee," John rambled, holding up a steaming hot cup of coffee.

John was too busy engrossed in his tale of how he had been rejected by every nurse in the Hospital, that he failed to notice, upon entering, how close Sherlock and Molly had been standing to each other, how they had jumped apart when he had entered and how they both seemed to be rather breathless. Sherlock nodded and grunted in response to John's questions and went back to his bench, shooting a glance towards Molly who had resumed her seat at her desk. She was looking back at him.

"What did I miss?" John asked, pointing at the microscope. Due to the fact Sherlock was staring at Molly, he missed the question.

"Hmmm?" Sherlock turned to John who frowned.

"What did I miss, Sherlock? Did you do it?" John asked somewhat suspiciously. Sherlock thought for a moment.

"Chance would be a fine thing," Sherlock replied, his mind on something other than the case entirely. John patted him on the shoulder.

"You'll get eventually, mate, you always do," John encouraged, drinking his coffee and sitting on the unoccupied stool next to the detective.

Sherlock nodded and smirked to himself. I am glad to hear you say that, Doctor Watson, because I am thinking the exact same thing. Sherlock looked through the microscope but saw nothing but the pathologist. She was burned on his memory and Sherlock realised, with a jolt, he wanted to spend his time conducting his own private experiments that involved himself, Molly and various items and rooms in 221B, her flat and the Hospital. He repressed a shiver of anticipation and watched as she sucked the end of her pen. Is she doing this on purpose? Sherlock turned away, burning desire had overcome him. This was all a game…and one he was not about to lose. He wanted her and she wanted him, and Sherlock was determined to make her give in first.

On the other side of the room, Molly looked over at Sherlock several times to see him desperately trying to concentrate on his work. He was definitely aware of her now. She smiled to herself and traced the outline of her lips with her tongue, unaware she was driving a certain detective wild. Molly didn't know what he was trying to do before John came into the morgue, but she was sure he was about to ask for some parts or an entire body, judging by the intensity of it. She deflated a little at this thought. This is a game to him. Well, if he wants to play…he has no idea what he's in for. I'll have him begging for me before the end of the month. They caught each other's gaze for a moment, each said 'come and get me' and each resisted. Sherlock made a silent promise it would take him only a week before Molly was in his bed, screaming for him…

Ok, I have had this little idea for a while and I've only just got around to writing it up. I hope you liked this and will keep reading :D xx See you soon and I promise not to keep you waiting too long (assuming you want another chapter) xx